


we're after the same rainbows

by missmichellebelle



Series: camp rosewood [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Best Friends, Childhood Friends, Coming of Age, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Growing Up, M/M, Slow Burn, Summer, Summer Camp, camp counselors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-14 08:02:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11203821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: Summer camp is supposed to be sleeping bags under the stars, ghost stories around a campfire, overturned canoes in the lake, hikes that last all day, and friendships that last for a lifetime.Summer camp isnotsupposed to be finding your best friend and falling in love with him, but the summer after Yuuri turns 12, that's what it becomes.





	1. farewell to poppies

**Author's Note:**

> this fic takes place over the course of 8 consecutive summers.
> 
> each chapter will be inspired by/themed by a different color of the rainbow.
> 
> this fic will be updated once a week. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **red** is for **poppies**  
>   
>  song inspo for this chapter: "[celebrate](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v_FhYVU_6Ws)" - ingrid michaelson

** JUNE 2010 **

 

“What do you think it’ll be like?”

Yuuri watches the familiar shape of the treeline slide past the bus window, and raises one shoulder in response. Phichit is kicking his legs back and forth beneath the seat, rubber soles of his sneakers squeaking against the floor and making Yuuri’s teeth hurt. It’s a restlessness that sharpens the edges of his own nerves, but he doesn’t comment on it. It’s not like Phichit tamping down on his energy now is going to be of any help—he’s already anxious, after all.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles in response, fingers tapping in uneven rhythms against the glass. “Probably not that different.” It feels and sounds like the lie it is, and Phichit must be able to hear it—he bumps his shoulder against Yuuri’s.

“Probably,” he responds, voice bright and optimistic like he actually agrees. “Besides.” He nudges Yuuri again. “Orchid’s not _that_ far from Poppy,” Phichit assures in that optimistic, matter-of-fact way of his. Yuuri wonders where he gets it from. Was he that bubbly when he was ten?

_No_ , he thinks immediately, and presses his forehead to the window.

In all fairness, compared to how far away Yuuri is from Phichit for the other 46 weeks of the year, Orchid Cabin _isn’t_ that far from Poppy. It’s just on the other side of the camp.

But it’s still _on the other side of the camp_. Yuuri’s never even _been_ to that side of the camp. And now that Yuuri has graduated from the younger age bracket, he won’t even be on the same activities rotation as his old cabin.

He sighs softly.

“And there are plenty of boys in the blossom cabins who were in Poppy with you before,” Phichit continues on, resilient. This is _also_ true. Chris, Takeshi, Hunter, Sasha—they’d all been Poppies with him over the last couple of years, but they’re all older than him, and none of them are Orchids now. “You’re not going to be alone, Yuuri.”

He _feels_ like he is.

Yuuri has been coming to Camp Rosewood since he was seven, and while the first year had been a terrifying, bordering on traumatic experience, he’d spent every summer afterwards being excited. He’d joined in on the songs, and called out as the bus passed certain markers as they drew closer to the campground. He’d even started crossing off days on the calendar, counting down to the day he would head back to see all of his friends again.

But this year is like starting over. It’s like being seven again, even though he’s nearly thirteen now. Instead of the warm, welcoming feeling of returning to someplace familiar, he feels detached and scared. 

And he _hates_ it.

But that isn’t Phichit’s fault. Phichit is trying to make him feel better. He’s a good friend that way.

“Thanks, Phichit.” The smile his reflection makes is weak and watered down, but it’s genuine, at least. Phichit leans against him, meeting his eyes in the window and grinning.

The bus makes its final turn, going from pavement to dirt, and the bus goes up in cheers. Yuuri doesn’t even try to join them, his throat thick with dread as they grow closer and closer to their destination.

“Hey Yuuri.”

He turns to look at Phichit, and is surprised to see him looking more serious than he usually does.

“You should come visit.” His eyebrow pinches. “All the time. As much as you can. Okay?” He bites his lip, and then holds up his pinky, expression turning hopeful. “Promise?”

Something settles in Yuuri’s chest as he links his pinky with Phichit’s. They became fast friends over the three summers they spent together—something that surprises Yuuri to this day, because he doesn’t make fast friends with _anyone_. But Phichit had been persistent as always. He’d been like the younger sibling Yuuri had never thought to want—in fact, it wouldn’t be wrong to say he thought of Phichit as family.

The sudden realization that he won’t be helping Phichit haul his duffle to Poppy Cabin, won’t be sharing a bunk bed with him, won’t be paired up with him for the three-legged race—Yuuri’s throat goes tight and his chest aches.

He swallows.

“Promise.”

Phichit’s face flashes with something like relief, and then he’s smiling again.

“Good!” He gives their joined hands one good shake, and then they both seal the promise by kissing the curl of their own respective fists. This time, Yuuri’s smile feels a little stronger. “We’re going to miss you, too, you know,” he amends as their hands fall apart and the bus rumbles beneath Camp Rosewood’s wooden archway. “Poppy Cabin won’t be the same without you.”

It doesn’t make everything better, but… It does give Yuuri a warm feeling in his chest that he holds onto tightly.

*

The Blossom Cabins are… _Bigger_ than Yuuri remembers.

Granted, he’s only ever really seen them from far away, but—but _still_. They’re like the ominous, looming forms of giants, filling him with a sense of foreboding as he walks towards them. And Yuuri wishes (not for the first time) that he had just _stayed_ eleven. That he had just stayed in Poppy, stayed with his friends, stayed in a place he was familiar with, where he was safe and comfortable and, and, and—

—and not a little lost.

Yuuri shifts the weight of his duffle on his shoulder, biting his lip as he looks around. His bus was one of the first ones to pull through Camp Rosewood’s welcoming arch, and the whole camp feels unnervingly empty as a result. There is no constant stream of boys from one place to another, and only a very faint trace of indistinct yelling that doesn’t seem to be coming from anywhere nearby.

There is no one to follow, no one to show him the way, and Yuuri… Has _no_ idea where he is.

_Don’t panic_ , he tells himself, even as he feels himself panicking, and swallows around the acute need to start breathing heavily. The air is warm and sticky and he’s already sweating under the neck of his t-shirt. He doesn’t want to pass out. That is the last thing he needs on his very first day of camp in a brand new cabin.

The building closest to him has the telltale branding of a cabin—a circle plaque beside the door, the silhouette of a daffodil blossom calling attention to itself in a painted-orange wood cutout. Well, at least he’s in the right vicinity. There’s only six cabins, so he can’t be that far, right?

He stumbles upon Rose next, and then Lavender, and then finally, _finally_ , he spots the pretty petal pink emblem of an orchid standing beautiful and proud at one the cabins closest to the lake. It is, somehow, more intimidating than all the previous ones, and Yuuri stares long and hard at what will serve as his home for the next six weeks.

He wonders if he’s the first one there.

He wonders if the older campers have bunks that they sleep in every summer.

He wonders if he should maybe come back later and just take whatever bunk is leftover.

He wonders if maybe he could just drop his duffle in a corner or something really fast.

Yuuri takes a deep breath and ascends the steps, only to nearly get knocked right back down to the dirt when the cabin door flies open.

A strangled sound squeaks out of his throat as he tries to catch his balance, and is aided by the sudden appearance of a soft, warm hand catching him around the wrist.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you.”

Yuuri stares at the toes of his shoes as he waits for the adrenaline to pass, his mind rapidly flashing through every possible combination for how that moment _could_ have happened.

“Are you okay?”

There is still a firm hold around his wrist, and when Yuuri looks up he meets the eyes of a stranger.

Camp Rosewood isn’t _incredibly_ small, but it isn’t large, either—there are nearly fives times as many kids in his entire class at school. So even if Yuuri isn’t friends with a lot of the older campers, he _knows_ them. Recognizes them. Waves to them in the mess hall. Isn’t uncomfortable sitting next to them at campfire. After all, Rosewood isn’t exactly a casual camp, so it’s rare for new campers to come in that aren’t at the younger end of the spectrum.

The boy standing in front of him, staring at him with friendly, curious eyes the color of rainwater, is not familiar to him in anyway. With his long, near-white silver hair twisted up into a lazy ponytail and the delicate, elfin cut to his features, Yuuri knows that not only has he never seen him before at camp but that he’s never seen _anyone_ like him before.

Ever.

Those eyes that have been holding his gaze sweep over him quickly, as if inspecting for any type of injury, and then light up with realization.

“Are you lost?” The beautiful stranger asks him, and before Yuuri can recover from the mass assault on his senses this interaction is causing, he continues with, “The sprout cabins are on the other side of camp.”

Yuuri blinks rapidly, reaching up to push his glasses to their proper resting place on the bridge of his nose and looks over both of his shoulders. There’s no one else around them. So he must be—oh.

He doesn’t think Yuuri’s old enough to be here.

Yuuri looks down again, pulling his lip between his teeth. He has always been on the small side, and maybe if he was new to camp, he could pass for an eleven year old for the next two years maybe.

Too bad the entire staff knows who he is.

He should say something. He should correct him. If he walked out of Orchid, chances are they are going to be sharing a cabin at least for the next year, and Yuuri _needs_ to correct him before the situation gets worse.

He opens his mouth.

Nothing happens.

“I’m new here, so I don’t know exactly where it is, but—”

“Yuuri!”

Yuuri whips his attention to the side, and feels relief rush over him when he sees Takeshi walking up the path towards him and waving.

“There you are!” He’s still yelling, his voice deeper and more booming than Yuuri remembers. It makes a smile break out over his face—there’s something to be said for a familiar face, especially one you haven’t seen in a year.

It’s easy to slip out of the his cabinmate’s hold and wave back. Easy to find his voice again when he isn’t staring down the tangible definition of the word _beautiful_.

“Were you looking for me?”

“Well, yeah! You’re all grown up now.” Takeshi beams at him, sticking his hands in his pockets as he comes to a stop at the bottom of the steps. “You’re an Orchid now, huh?” He gestures with his chin at the cabin at Yuuri’s back, sounding a little disappointed. They were both on Poppy together until last summer, when Takeshi moved up to Hydrangea. It would have been nice to been in the same cabin as someone he knew.

Yuuri glances over his shoulder, as if verifying, and is surprised to find the boy still standing there, watching the whole interaction with a blank face. Yuuri swallows and looks away, the back of his neck feeling hot.

“Y-yeah. I was just going to drop my stuff off.” Great. _Great_. Now the fact that the guy made a mistake is out in the open. Yuuri hopes he isn’t embarrassed, especially since Yuuri is sure he feels embarrassed enough for the both of them.

“Well, hurry up then. They’re handing out free popsicles at the commissary, and I told Chris I’d bring you.”

“Chris is here?” Yuuri asks, feeling excited. Another Poppy graduate. Maybe this _won’t_ be so bad, after all. He turns around quickly, going still for only a second when he nearly collides with the other camper again, before bowing past him with a high-pitched, “Excuse me.”

The tension doesn’t leave him until he’s strolling down the path with Takeshi moments later, his arm slung around Yuuri’s shoulder comforting even if it does border on the _too warm_ side of things.

“Should we have invited your cabinmate?” Takeshi asks, looking back behind them. “Is he new? I’ve never seen him before.”

Yuuri shrugs, even if the answer is obvious to both of them. There isn’t really any other way to explain it.

The idea of him tagging along makes Yuuri’s throat seize. It would probably just bother him, hanging out with Yuuri and his old cabinmates. It would probably just make him feel left out. And besides, then they’d have to address the mix-up that just happened. It would be better to save both of them from any further humiliation over the incident.

“It’s fine,” Yuuri settles on with a decisive nod, and Takeshi accepts the answer with a shrug.

“So now that you’re all grown up, are you ready for your first ever courage test?”

Yuuri stumbles over nothing. _How_ had he forgotten about the courage test?

*

The boy’s name is Victor Nikiforov. He is 14, and it’s his first time at Camp Rosewood—and at any kind of sleep-away camp in general.

Or so Yuuri learns later that evening, around the same time he’s introduced to his new counselor (Justin) and the rest of the boys in his cabin. There’s only one other 12-year-old in Orchid—his name is Shiloh, and he was in Lilac before. They recognize one another, but they’ve never spoken. Still, as the youngest ones in the cabin, Yuuri knows they’ll have to stick together.

Victor smiles at him at the first campfire that night, and Yuuri stares at his hands.

*

Yuuri and Shiloh get paired together for the courage test. They share a commiserating look, because they had expected as much.

The woods, which are dark and scary and Do Not Enter territory for sprout campers, make perfect sense for a courage test. They are altogether terrifying.

They are given one flashlight to share, and Yuuri drops it ten minutes into the test.

They don’t finish.

Shiloh is nice enough not to make Yuuri feel bad about it.

(Yuuri does a good enough job of _that_ all on his own.)

 

 

** JULY 2010 **

 

“You look sad,” Phichit points out as they sit at the benches under the Big Oak Tree and work on their lanyards and friendship bracelets. Phichit has eight different lanyards tied to the shorts he’s wearing already, and the one he’s working on now is even more colorful and complex.

Yuuri’s always hated lanyards. But he could make friendship bracelets for hours.

Mark, Poppy’s counselor, is overseeing freetime arts and crafts today, and he shoots the two of them a smile.

Yuuri misses him.

“I’m not sad,” Yuuri counters, eyes focused on keeping his loops the same size. He doesn’t know who he’s going to give this one to. Maybe Shiloh? He’s been putting up with Yuuri lately. It seems like the nice thing to do.

“Uh huh.” Phichit doesn’t sound convinced, and he looks up from his tangled of plastic cord to meet Yuuri’s eyes. “How often have you been at the lake lately?”

Yuuri stares down at the rough wooden grain of the table and doesn’t answer. He likes the lake. He can go and sit on the dock during freetime and no one will bother him or try to talk to him. Besides, it reminds him of home, something that’s been extremely comforting considering how terribly homesick Yuuri has been feeling.

“Thought so,” Phichit sing-songs, deft fingers returning to his work. “But that’s okay, if you don’t want to talk about it, we can talk about something else.” Phichit’s mouth quirks in a smile. “Like Victor.”

“P-Phichit.” Yuuri looks up, and then glances around frantically, hoping that no one is around to overhear. But he doesn’t have to worry. There are some of the younger Poppy campers finger painting over by Mark, but other than that, it’s just them. Arts and crafts isn’t exactly a popular destination during freetime.

Almost everyone is at the archery range, but that might be because _Victor_ is at the archery range.

“What? I just figured I’d bring him up. Save you the trouble of finding some roundabout way to do it.” Phichit shrugs, but he’s still smiling, and Yuuri would throw the bracelet he’s working on at him if it wasn’t nearly done and he didn’t _really_ like the color scheme.

It’s not like Yuuri _means_ to talk about Victor so much, it’s just… Hard not to. After all, they live in the same cabin. They are involved in the same camp activities most of the time, and they eat meals together. Yuuri spends a lot of time in Victor’s presence, and there isn’t really a dull moment when it comes to Victor.

Probably because Victor executes everything he tries flawlessly. Despite having never been to camp before, all of the normal camp activities come easily to him. Horseback riding, volleyball, the ropes course, archery. He executes everything with a semblance of ease, and somehow manages to look like a model the whole time. Despite a week in near-constant sunshine, his fair skin hasn’t reddened or tanned _at all_. Although Yuuri noticed that he’s starting to freckle across his cheeks and on his shoulders.

He realizes he’s tied the same knot six times and quickly works to undo it.

“...I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad for it,” Phichit finally says in the wake of Yuuri’s silence. “It’s okay to like Victor, Yuuri. I mean, half the camp does, so you have some competition, but—”

“I-I don’t _like_ Victor,” Yuuri splutters in surprise, and Phichit’s eyes widen. “I mean, I do like him like, as a _person_ , but not-not like _that_ ,” Yuuri corrects, cheeks warming up, and he ends up untying the entire row instead of the one series of knots. He sighs. “I just… I admire him a lot,” Yuuri admits, voice turning quiet, and he stares at his now-still fingers. “He’s good at everything he tries, and it’s all so effortless, and everyone just _loves_ him.”

Victor makes it all look so _easy_. Yuuri wishes it was that easy for him.

Phichit’s hand lands on top of him, warm and sun-kissed, and Yuuri looks up to find his gentle smile.

“Everyone loves you, too, you know.”

Yeah. _Right_.

*

It’s particularly hot that afternoon, and Yuuri is exhausted after their morning on the lake. Canoeing is new to him at camp. It’s not something they offer to the sprouts, and Yuuri can understand why. His arms _ache_ , and he wonders if he’ll be able to hold his own in the race next week.

Or if he’ll let down his entire cabin.

He can already feel the dread starting to curl up in his stomach.

Yuuri drags himself in the direction of his cabin, knowing that the rest of his cabinmates are off enjoying their freetime. He’ll take a shower and maybe take a nap before dinner, and hopefully that will make him feel better. Team building on the ropes course is in a few days, and he doesn’t want to mess _that_ up, either.

With a sigh, Yuuri tugs open the door to Orchid Cabin—and stops so abruptly that he’s slammed in the back when the door tries to shut itself automatically.

Victor is sitting on his bunk. On _Yuuri’s_ bunk. He has all of his wonderfully long hair gathered in his hands, and appears to be braiding it. Or, well, trying to at least.

“Oh good, you’ve come to your senses, I can’t—” Victor turns to look at him, his expression contorted into a look that must be frustration but that looks altogether unnatural on Victor’s normally composed face. “Oh.” It almost immediately smooths out once he meets Yuuri’s eyes. “You’re not Chris.”

No. No, he’s not.

Victor is friends with everyone, and Yuuri is not at all surprised that he had made fast friends with Chris. In retrospect, it’s a combination that just makes _sense_ , and sometimes Yuuri feels silly for not inviting Victor along on that first day. He would have met Chris sooner. He would have met Chris _because_ of Yuuri. Maybe he would have been friends with Yuuri, too, then.

But that’s not what had happened. Victor and him are practically strangers despite living in the same cabin, and Yuuri would be surprised if Victor even knew his name. Chris, as a friend to both of them, has even _tried_ to get Yuuri to hang out with the both of them, but where on the first day of camp he’d been afraid of leaving Victor out, not Yuuri’s afraid that that would be _him_.

Besides, if he becomes friends with Victor, he wants it to be because Victor _wants_ to be his friend. Not because he feels like he _has_ to.

“Uh—” Talking around Victor is still, unfortunately, difficult. “N-no, I’m not, but I can go—”

“Wait!” Victor calls out as Yuuri reaches for the doorknob currently wedged into his lower back. “Do you know how to braid hair?”

Yuuri blinks in surprise, taken aback by the question, and Victor sighs, twisting on the mattress so he can knot his legs together. His hair is a long cascade over his shoulder, and Yuuri wonders how he doesn’t overheat under all of it.

“Normally Chris helps me with my hair,” Victor admits, almost like it’s a shameful secret. “But he said something stupid and I’m not speaking to him right now.” He tips his chin up, and Yuuri is sure that whatever Chris said that it was indeed quite stupid and Victor is in the right. “So I’ve been left to my own devices.” He sighs, combing his pale fingers through his hair, and Yuuri longs to know what it feels like.

But he won’t. Shouldn’t. He’s not _worthy_. Victor has plenty of friends to ask, surely more qualified than Yuuri himself is, and he should just… Go sit at the lake. Scamper as quickly as he can from the cabin and hold onto this moment for as long as he possibly can.

“I’ve braided my sister’s hair,” is what he says instead, and nearly slaps his own hands over his mouth afterwards. He has braided Mari’s hair—a hundred different ways, a thousand different times, but that’s different. That’s his _sister_.

That’s not _Victor_.

“Really?” Victor’s eyes seem to sparkle with his sudden spark in hope and excitement, and Yuuri knows he can’t say no _now_. He can’t walk away. Not when Victor is looking at him like _that_. “Do you think you could help me?”

As if the first look hadn’t sealed Yuuri’s fate already, the way Victor’s face softens into a look that is borderline pleading propels Yuuri into motion. The next thing he knows, he’s sitting down behind Victor on the mattress and hoping his hands aren’t as sweaty or dirty as they feel. He should have washed them.

If he leaves to wash his hands, he’s not sure he’ll be able to come back.

“Thanks, Yuuri,” Victor says on a sigh, pushing his hair so that it falls all down his back. It’s… Very distracting. Almost distracting enough that Yuuri nearly doesn’t register Victor saying his name.

Nearly.

Victor is holding a ponytail holder over his shoulder and Yuuri’s hand is paused in the air a few inches away from it.

“...you know my name,” he says quietly, plucking the band from Victor’s fingers. He toys with it for a moment before snapping it around his wrist for safe-keeping, and is about to part Victor’s hair when he twists around to look at Yuuri.

“Of course I do.” He seems surprised by Yuuri’s statement, his lips turned down in confusion. “You’re the first person I met here, after all.” Oh no. Yuuri wishes he wouldn’t mention _that_. “I thought you were too young to be over here.”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri blurts out, and this causes another kind of surprise to wash over Victor’s face.

He laughs—just once, short and wonderfully, and Yuuri’s heart beats a little faster.

“Why are you sorry? I’m the one who messed up.” Victor’s mouth twists quizzically, like he actually expects Yuuri to answer.

Yuuri doesn’t know the answer.

He looks down, fiddling with the hair tie. It’s purple.

“What kind of braid did you want?” He asks instead of tearing his brain to pieces trying to respond to Victor, and Victor tips his head to the side.

“There are different kinds?”

When Yuuri laughs, it’s involuntary, and he tries to cover the corresponding smile with his hand.

“Don’t laugh at me, Yuuri,” Victor whines. At least, it is Victor sitting before him, and it’s Victor’s mouth that’s moving, and it would make sense that the words and noises coming out of him would be from Victor as well. But it doesn’t add up. It doesn’t make sense with the graceful, almost inhuman beauty that looks like a prince on horseback and who can’t loose an arrow without hitting a bullseye. “Chris always just _does_ it, he never asks me questions.”

Yuuri thinks for a moment about Victor’s hair and all the ways he’s worn it since coming to camp. The braids are generally simple, but elegant, and Victor tends to favor wearing his hair in some kind of tousled ponytail, pigtails, or a bun during the day before switching to a braid at night. Now it makes as to why.

“Do you want it going down the back or to the side?” Yuuri asks instead, fingers itching to reach forward and just _touch_ already. This will probably be the only chance he has to do this, and he needs to not scare Victor by just suddenly playing with his hair.

“Oh!” Victor shifts around, letting his legs hang over the edge of the bed. “To the side! I’ve never worn one to the side before.”

So the first one he ever wears for the entire camp to see will be the one Yuuri does right now. Great. No pressure.

“I still have to start at the back, so just… Turn your head for me?”

Victor does without question, and then Yuuri reaches tentatively forward, gathering some hair from the top left part of his hair and dividing it into two parts. _Wow_. It takes every ounce of will Yuuri has not to drag his fingers through the entirety of Victor’s hair. There’s more weight to it than he was expecting, and while it might not be like touching silk, it’s still incredibly soft to the touch.

Whatever shampoo he uses, it smells _amazing_.

“What are you doing?” Victor asks, his voice dropped to a quiet hush as if he’s afraid he might break Yuuri’s concentration, and Yuuri nearly pulls Victor’s hair with how hard he jerks back. _Not smelling your hair_ , he doesn’t say, because that’s not what Victor was asking him. Probably. He hadn’t sounded weirded out, so there’s a pretty good chance Yuuri hadn’t been caught being creepy.

“A-a fishtail braid,” Yuuri explains, remembering why exactly he’s sitting there and being given the opportunity to even touch Victor’s hair to begin with. He takes a breath and starts to pull the segments carefully and painstakingly over each other. “Well, a French fishtail, I suppose,” he continues, thoughtfully.

“What’s that?”

Victor can’t see him, so Yuuri lets himself smile.

“A type of braid.”

“Obviously,” Victor scoffs. “Why is it called a fishtail? How is it different from a normal braid? What’s a French braid?”

Mari had never explained these things to Yuuri, and so he has no idea how to explain them to Victor.

But hell if he’s not going to try.

“I don’t know,” he replies honestly. “It looks a little like a fishbone when it’s done I guess. Or maybe it’s supposed to look like a mermaid tail?” Yuuri could see how it could be both.

“Well, that’s fitting,” Victor comments loftily. “I’ve always thought I would make a good mermaid.”

Yuuri doesn’t even need to think about it when he says, “I can see that.”

He’s thankful when Victor just takes what he says without comment. However, his curiosity still doesn’t appear to be sated.

“So is that how it’s different?” He continues.

“Uh—” Yuuri is careful as he pulls in the pieces, not wanting to tug too hard or create any knots. “It only uses two pieces instead of three?”

“Really?” Victor sounds fascinated for some reason. “How does that work?”

“You… It’s hard to explain. You move pieces from the outside to the inside?” Yuuri’s never tried to explain how he did the braid. He just did what his sister showed him. It reminded him of making bracelets. It was easy, and soothing, but Mari doesn’t talk nearly as much as Victor does.

“You’ll have to show me when you get near the end,” Victor says decisively, and if Yuuri didn’t feel so on edge, he might’ve laughed. “You mentioned your sister before. Did she teach you?”

“Mmm.”

“What’s her name?”

And so Yuuri tells Victor about Mari and about watching braiding tutorials on YouTube. He talks about his parents and the bed-and-breakfast they own on the California coast. He talks about the ocean and how much he misses it when he’s away, and how he’s been coming to Camp Rosewood since he was seven.

In return Victor tells him a little bit about growing up in Maryland. He talks about his mama, and his poodle, and how much he misses them both. He’s never been away from home this long, and he’s happy that everyone at camp is so nice and welcoming.

“The only thing that would make camp better is if they let me bring my Makkachin with me,” Victor explains, voice stained with sadness.

“I’d love to meet her,” Yuuri replies softly, pulling the hair tie from around his wrist and securing it around the end of the braid. He’s proud of it. It’s smooth and even, and Victor wears it beautifully.

“I’m sure she’d love you.” The way Victor says it, it sounds like the highest of compliments. “Oh? Are you done?” Victor grabs for the braid as soon as Yuuri lays it carefully over his shoulder, and his fingers immediately miss the intimate feeling of touching Victor’s hair. He’s also suddenly aware that one of his feet is asleep and that the light in the cabin has dimmed significantly. He wonders what time it is and how long they’ve been sitting there.

“ _Wow_. It’s beautiful,” Victor coos. “It doesn’t look anything like a fishbone or a mermaid tail—it looks much better than that.”

For the first time in however long they’ve been sitting and talking, Victor looks at him again, and the way he’s smiling is soft and brilliant all at once. It makes Yuuri’s heart seize in his chest.

“Thank you, Yuuri.” He sounds so genuinely earnest, fingers playing over the ridges of the braid like he doesn’t quite believe they’re there. “But you forgot to show me, so you’ll have to remember next time, okay?”

_Next time?_

The idea of being this close to Victor _again_ makes it difficult to breathe suddenly.

“I—” Yuuri stumbles to standing, prickles of feeling making pain shoot through his still half-asleep foot.

“Yuuri?”

“I have to use the bathroom!” He blurts, and then darts out of the cabin as fast as he possibly can. He nearly trips down the cabin steps and straight into Shiloh, who gets halfway through asking whether or not Yuuri is okay before he’s recovered and continuing his hasty retreat.

He doesn’t have to go to the bathroom, but he goes there, anyway, his lungs tight in his chest. He’s not sure what’s wrong with him, he’d been _fine_ , but he tries to regulate his breathing as he makes his way to the sink. He just needs to calm down, splash some water on his overheated skin, and he’ll be _fine_.

When he looks up into the mirror, water dripping from the ends of his hair, his skin is still flushed red, and Yuuri stares at his appearance as if it’s completely alien to him.

He thinks of Victor, of the cadence of his voice, the softness of his hair, his thoughtful questions about Yuuri’s life outside of Camp Rosewood.

And then he thinks of Phichit working plastic cord through his fingers and saying, “It’s okay to like Victor.”

_Oh no_.

No, no, no, no, no, no, _no_.

He can’t like Victor. He _can’t_.

*

The next morning, as Yuuri is putting on his socks, Victor plops down on the mattress beside him and presents his hairbrush.

“Will you help me braid my hair again, Yuuri?”

His smile makes Yuuri’s heart explode into a thousand fluttering wings behind his sternum.

(Apparently, he _can_ like Victor.

Because he absolutely does.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [reblog this chapter on tumblr <3](http://missmichellebelle.tumblr.com/post/161839693500/one-farewell-to-poppies-summer-camp-is-supposed)
> 
>  
> 
> hello and welcome to my summer fic series! hurray! so my plan is to update this fic once a week for the next 14 weeks, essentially getting through the entirety of the summer. can I do it? WE'LL SEE!
> 
> this fic was inspired by a similar fic series I did, oh, four or five years ago now? where I did a series of unrelated fics all inspired by different colors. so I decided to take that idea and make it into a chronological fic. the colors might not always be as obvious as they are at other times, but... idk. I loved that idea, other people loved that idea, and it seemed like a lot of fun to revisit. <3
> 
> please be sure to check my tumblr, too, because I'll be posting the updates there with pretty rainbow graphics lol.
> 
> for the sake of this fic, all the ages have been adjusted. and for the sake of confusion, I'll include cabins as well lol.
> 
> so currently:  
> Yuuri: 12, Orchid  
> Phichit: 10, Poppy  
> Victor: 14, Orchid  
> Takeshi: 13, Hydrangea  
> Chris: 13, Rose  
> Shiloh (OC): 12, Orchid


	2. by firelight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Braiding hair and roasting marshmallows. So Victor Nikiforov _does_ have weaknesses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **orange** is for **campfires**
> 
> mood music for this chapter: "[cherry wine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w59ghjATu20)" - hozier

**AUGUST 2010**

 

Yuuri sits alone on a hewn wooden bench surrounding one of the many roaring campfires, cheek pressed into his hand as he stares thoughtfully into the flames. It’s the Last Campfire, and in two days, he’ll be back on a bus and leaving Camp Rosewood behind for another ten months. Around him, the other blossom campers are laughing, waving melted marshmallows on skewers like swords and enjoying the last big hurrah of the summer. Yuuri had been one of them hours ago, before the sprouts had been herded back to their cabins for a reasonable bed time and taken the rest of his energy with them.

It reminds Yuuri of the last few years, having to smooth down all the feathers that were ruffled at being treated like _babies_. He’d always been grateful to have a reason to leave, the festivities always wearing him down and overwhelming him, and he wishes there was a good reason now to slink back to his cabin and go to bed.

He rubs at his eyes, and hopes it isn’t obvious to everyone else how tired he is.

“Marshmallow?”

Yuuri startles out of his thoughts, back going ramrod straight in his surprise, and he turns to find Victor standing there. The twin braids Yuuri had reverently twisted his hair into that morning have grown loose and messy over the course of the day—in the flickering firelight, it only serves to make Victor look even lovelier.

He stares at Victor for an uncomfortably long amount of time before he manages to tear his eyes away, fiddling nervously with the hem of his t-shirt and hoping the warmth he feels is from the fire as he manages a, “What?”

Victor giggles, light and airy and without a trace of bad intent.

“Do you want a marshmallow?” Victor asks again, wiggling a bag around in Yuuri’s periphery. “I noticed you were out.”

Yuuri had split his marshmallows with most of the younger boys, and given the rest to his cabinmates. He doesn’t know how to tell Victor that the Last Campfire just manages to make everything taste bittersweet.

It hadn’t bothered him, though. He’s never been a fan of overtly sugary things anyway, and it had made everyone else so happy.

But he can’t say no to Victor.

“…okay.” He ducks his head and then holds out his hand, but Victor tuts and pulls the bag away.

“There’s a catch,” he continues, very seriously. “You have to let me sit with you.”

It surprises a breathy laugh out of Yuuri, and he manages to subdue it down to a smile. His skin feels tingly all over, but he still makes a show of scooting over on the bench even though there was already plenty of room beside him. Victor, naturally, sits almost as close as he possibly can, leaving just enough room between them for the bag of marshmallows.

Yuuri’s heart is a woodpecker against his sternum, and he focuses on the fire and the way his hand is curled over the edge of the bench and not on the place where Victor’s braid is brushing his bare arm.

It’s been exactly a month since that fateful day Victor had first asked Yuuri to braid his hair, and the awe that had been instilled in Yuuri since the first day of camp has hardly faded. The admiration and the longing are still there, but they’re… Different. They’ve _changed_. Because Victor is no longer a far off figure of perfection, but the boy who sits next to him at dinner, who calls his name from across the entire camp and waves, who whispers in his ear during ghost stories.

Yuuri finds that he doesn’t want to _be_ Victor so much as he wants to be beside him. That he wants to be worthy of that.

And as much as he hates it, he knows the feeling of longing, of yearning, comes from the same place that makes his heart flutter like a hummingbird, that makes his palms sweaty, that turns the soft, gentle curl of Victor’s smile into something absolutely lethal.

It’s not nerves. It is so, _so_ much worse than that.

He closes his eyes and breathes.

“Where did you get so many?” He asks, his voice even and level as he gestures towards the marshmallows. As unsteady as Yuuri feels, it’s been week since being around Victor has given him the urge to vomit and run. Yuuri supposes it’s some kind of immunity he’s built due to constant exposure, and is certain he’ll be a mess again when he returns to camp next year.

…well, if Victor comes back. That’s something Yuuri prefers not to think about.

It makes sitting here even harder, knowing that it might be the last time he ever sees firelight throw Victor’s face into shadows.

“I am very persuasive when I want to be,” Victor says elusively, and Yuuri smiles down at his knee. “And… I saw you give all of yours away.”

Yuuri can feel Victor looking at him, and bites his lip.

“I don’t like s’mores very much,” Yuuri says by way of explanation. It’s mostly the truth, after all. He hadn’t _meant_ to give all of them away, but it had made all the younger boys so happy that he’d had a hard time saying no to any of them.

Victor lets out a small gasp, pressing a hand to his chest as if Yuuri’s comment offended him personally.

“That’s because you’ve never had one of my s’mores,” Victor insists. He stuffs two marshmallows onto his skewer, scooting to the edge of the bench with purpose before holding them out over the fire. Yuuri watches with interest, chin in hand again, and they sit in perfect silence—until the marshmallows catch fire, and Yuuri has to press his palm to his smile before he laughs.

“That’s no good,” Victor mutters, pulling them back. They’re still on fire.

“Blow them out!” Yuuri exclaims, leaning over to blow over the flames just as Victor does. They stare at each other, and Victor starts laughing as Yuuri reels back. He wishes _he_ was the one on fire now—he certainly feels like he is. “H-have you never roasted marshmallows before?” Yuuri asks incredulously as Victor sadly pulls the mostly blackened lumps from his skewer—and pops them in his mouth. Yuuri grimaces.

A moment later, Victor mimics him.

“Don’t be silly,” he says, smacking his lips together. “I roasted several earlier tonight.”

And this time, Yuuri does let himself laugh, palm pressed to his forehead as he shakes his head.

Braiding hair and roasting marshmallows. So Victor Nikiforov _does_ have weaknesses.

“Here.” Yuuri picks up his own skewer, carefully poking marshmallows onto the end. “You can’t stick them in the fire like that. See?” He holds it out towards the fire, keeping the marshmallows away from the tips of the flames. “If you’re patient, they’ll turn out perfectly.”

When Victor huffs, it tosses the loose pieces of his bangs off his face.

“Patience has never been my strong point,” he mutters almost petulantly, and Yuuri bites down on his smile again.

When they’re done, Yuuri hands his skewer over to Victor, and is rewarded with a smile that would probably knock him over if he wasn’t already sitting down.

“Thank you, Yuuri,” Victor sighs out, like Yuuri just gave him something much more valuable than two passably roasted marshmallows. Yuuri isn’t some kind of s’mores expert, after all, but he at least knows hot to keep them from burning. “What am I going to do?” He continues forlornly, picking up his paper plate of s’mores supplies to settle it conveniently in his lap.

Yuuri frowns.

“Well, you slide the marshmallow onto the graham cracker—”

“No, no, I know how to make a s’more.” The look Victor gives him is childish and playfully annoyed. As if saying so is not enough, he begins to artfully craft two s’mores. “I _meant_ when I want a beautifully roasted marshmallow, or my hair to be braided.” Victor looks over at him, his pout over-exaggerated. “Maybe you should just come back to Maryland with me.”

Yuuri stares at Victor blankly, his heart held tightly in his throat and keeping any and all words locked behind it.

The caricature of Victor’s expression drops into something more serious, something more pensive, and then he looks away and Yuuri’s lungs heave in air.

“…will you be back? Next year?” Victor asks, the curtain of his bangs hiding his eyes as he positions the chocolate just right on the graham crackers.

“Yes,” Yuuri answers without hesitation. “I’ve been coming to Camp Rosewood every summer since I was seven.”

“Good.” Victor finishes the s’mores with a flourish, and then presents one to Yuuri with another beautiful smile—and because it’s Victor, Yuuri takes it. “Me too.”

The immense amount of relief and excitement that courses through Yuuri is almost shocking in its force, and he has to bite into the s’more to keep the grin from his face.

“I mean, this was my first year, but I’m going to come back next year, too,” Victor babbles in explanation, and Yuuri feels the strange urge to cry.

Victor will be back next summer.

Victor and him will still be in the same cabin.

And it’s not just his heart and all of the stupid, uncontrollable things it feels when Victor’s around. It’s the same wash of happiness that comes at knowing Phichit will be here next year, and Takeshi, and Chris, and everyone else.

The s’more is perfectly sweet, and Yuuri wonders in amazement when him and Victor became _friends_.

“Is it good?” Victor asks eagerly, and Yuuri has the distinct impression that he would scoot closer if it was at all possible.

Yuuri thinks about sitting in this same place in ten months, and Victor being there.

The s’more is too sweet for him, but he says, “Yes.”

“See!” Victor exclaims in victory, bumping their shoulders together. “I make the best s’mores.” He pauses for a second, and then smiles again. “Well, I guess _we_ make the best s’mores, since you roasted the marshmallow.”

Something in Yuuri’s chest squeezes.

They finish their s’mores to the laughter of the other boys, and then Victor readies more marshmallows for roasting.

“Are you excited?” He asks Yuuri as he carefully maneuvers his skewer over the fire. It’s still too close, and if Yuuri was braver, he would reach over and adjust Victor’s arm.

(But he’s not, so he doesn’t.)

“For more marshmallows?” Not particularly.

Victor laughs through his nose.

“ _No_. To leave.” Victor shrugs. “To go home.”

Yuuri frowns at the fire. His fingertips are sticky from the s’more, and he presses the pads together, focusing on the way the marshmallow clings and stretches as he pulls his fingers apart.

“Yes and no.” He pulls his knee into his chest and presses his cheek against it. “Leaving camp is always sad, but… I miss my family.” It’s the worst thing about camp. If Yuuri could have his parents and his sister here with him, Camp Rosewood would be perfect.

“You wrote them a lot,” Victor says, and Yuuri turns to look at him in surprise. Victor meets his eyes. “And they wrote you. You almost always got letters during mail call, and I’d always see you sitting by yourself during freetime, responding.”

Yuuri’s cheeks heat and he averts his eyes. Victor used to see him writing home? The idea of Victor paying attention to him even from afar is so… Jarring.

“I like to write letters,” he mumbles, shuffling his shoulders awkwardly.

“I think that’s great.” Victor is turned back towards the fire when Yuuri looks at him, his smile easy and his eyes far away. “People don’t really write letters anymore. Not when we have cell phones and email and Facebook. But it’s exciting, isn’t it? To get a letter in the mail. There’s just something romantic about a handwritten letter.”

The word _romantic_ is like a pile of boulders on his chest, just stopping Yuuri from saying _I’ll write you_. If it meant that Victor wouldn’t forget him, that he’d come back next summer and greet Yuuri with the same sunny smile.

If it meant that Yuuri could make him smile even from thousands of miles away.

“Your marshmallow,” Yuuri says instead, when he notices that it’s caught fire again, and Victor squeaks in surprise and indignation before tugging them out of the flames. He’s laughing, and Yuuri feels disappointment swell in his chest. He was a coward, _again_ , and now the chance is gone.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be good at this,” Victor chides himself gently, and then sighs, scraping the now ruined marshmallows off on to his plate. “We’ll work on it next summer. Along with braiding.”

Yuuri had tried, time and time again, to teach Victor how to braid his own hair. But even the simplest braids eluded him, and he continues to be absolutely hopeless at it.

“Sounds like a plan,” Yuuri answers into the skin of his knee.

For a moment, they just sit, staring into the fire again. The night is wearing on, later and later, and soon Justin will come to collect them for bed. The party will be over, and tomorrow will be for packing and signing shirts and Yuuri is pretty sure there will be some sort of camp-wide war. Last year, it had been fought with silly string.

Yuuri knows that Victor will sign his shirt without asking.

“Hey Yuuri.”

He turns to Victor, eyebrows raised, and the flames are dancing reflections in Victor’s irises.

“If I wrote to you, would you write me back?”

Yuuri can see the cracks in Victor’s normal confidence, see the hesitation and the uncertainty.

He breathes.

“Yes.” _Yes, of course_.

*

On the last day of camp, Victor hugs him goodbye and recites Yuuri’s address in his ear.

“I wrote it down for you,” Yuuri mumbles into Victor’s shoulder and prays that when Victor pulls back, he’s able to let go.

Victor pulls back halfway and pouts. For their last day of camp, Yuuri had twisted two dutch braids into a crown—and immediately regretted it. Victor doesn’t need any help looking like fairy tale royalty.

“Don’t forget to write back. You said,” Victor reminds him, and Yuuri nods.

Victor gives him one final squeeze, and when he says, “I’ll miss you,” Yuuri amazes himself by saying, “I’ll miss you, too.”

Phichit sings, “ _Yuuri and Victor, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G_ ,” on the bus on a continuous loop no matter how much Yuuri whines and tries to hide beneath his backpack, before eventually offering up an earphone and his iPod library. The Glee cover of “Faithfully” begins to play, and Yuuri shoves Phichit in the shoulder as he laughs.

*

A week after camp ends, Yuuri gets a letter from Berlin, Maryland. It’s sealed with a poodle sticker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you'd like to rec or reblog this fic on tumblr, it'd mean a lot to me if you'd [use the post i made for it here](http://missmichellebelle.tumblr.com/post/162138982510/two-by-firelight-braiding-hair-and-roasting) <3 it has a graphic! go look at the pretty graphic! lol
> 
> this! is much shorter than the first chapter lol sorry. a lot less world-building this time around. don't worry, the next chapter will make up for it in spades.
> 
> i was aiming for wednesday to be my update day, but. clearly. that did not happen. i'd say expect every wednesday/thursday? depending on how my week goes? except for the week i go to comic con, i'll have to post by tuesday then eesh.
> 
> hope you guys are having fun and enjoying yourselves uwu <3
> 
> ALSO. i. i had to put a glee reference in. this is the summer after season one (the summer of 2010), when everyone and their dog watched glee so. *jazz hands* i just. i had to lol
> 
> and as always, thank you for the nice comments. i haven't finished replying to the ones from the first chapter yet, but i will! you have not been forgotten! you are loved and appreciated and honestly you guys make my day and make me smile and just thank you for existing <3 <3 <3
> 
> see y'all next ~~week~~ summer!


	3. little lightning bug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Once upon a time,” Victor begins, “there were two boys walking through the woods.”
> 
> Yuuri can’t help but smile.
> 
> “How appropriate.”
> 
> “Very."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **yellow** is for **fireflies**  
>  mood music for this chapter: "[vanilla twilight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pIz2K3ArrWk)" - owl city

_August, 2010_

 

_Dear Yuuri,_

_Is it too soon to write a letter? I’m still in Maine, waiting for my flight back to Berlin. Maryland, that is! Germany would be fun, too, but I’m excited to go home. I miss my mama, and my Makkachin. I think I told you I’m from Maryland? What I didn’t tell you is that I’m actually from New York—at least, that’s where I was born—but after my parents split up a few years ago, Mama and I moved to Berlin. We have family here, if my aunt and her cats count as family. It’s very different from living in the city, but I like it. It has charm. It feels like the kind of place magical things would happen. You should visit one day! They have a campground here for tourists that’s styled like the old west. It’s very cheesy, but the ice cream parlor there is pretty amazing even if it is only open during the warmer months of the year. It would be so fun to take you there!_

_You’ll have to tell me all about California when you write back (and you have to write back. You promised!). I don’t know if you ever said exactly where you live, just on the coast. It sounds lovely! Ocean City is only a few hours away, and while New York City is technically by the ocean, it doesn’t feel like living by the ocean. Could you send me some pictures? It doesn’t have to be through our letters, either. By the time you get this, I’m sure I’ll have added you on Facebook. You do have Facebook, right?_

_It’s weird to think that I said goodbye to you a few hours ago. It already feels like so much longer. How am I supposed to get through another ten months?_

_Ah! My plane is about to board. I will write more later, unless I get too excited and mail this as soon as I get home. I’ve never had a pen pal before!_

_But for now, your friend,_

_Victor_

 

 

*

 

 

**JUNE 2011**

 

“Yuuri!”

The voice is unmistakeable. Even if it had been a full ten months since he’d heard it, he’d recognize it anywhere—as it were, it _hasn’t_ been that long, and yet Yuuri can’t deny that there is something fundamentally different about hearing it and knowing that the person it belongs to isn’t 3000 miles away.

That the person is _right_ there.

Yuuri feels his throat tighten with nerves as he turns, and a sound that is half shriek, half laughterstartles out of his mouth as Victor slams into him, the force of the sudden embrace nearly knocking both of them to the ground. From somewhere to their left, Yuuri can hear Phichit barely containing his laughter.

For the last ten months, Victor has sent Yuuri a letter every week without fail, and Yuuri has responded to every single one. He has a stack of envelopes, postcards, and greeting cards in his desk drawer back home, all of them carefully bundled together with the beautiful silver ribbon Victor had tied around the birthday gift he sent to Yuuri last November.

After only a month of snail mail, Facebook messages started to accompany their regular letters. Yuuri suddenly found himself using social media much more than he had before.

By Halloween, they’d exchanged phone numbers, and when Yuuri had gotten an iPhone 4 as his birthday gift that year, him and Victor transitioned from Facebook messaging to incessant texting.

There had only been a few phone calls, but mostly because the thought of them made Yuuri so anxious. He didn’t like talking on the phone _period_ , even if the person on the other end of the line _was_ his best friend.

And now with Victor right there, Yuuri’s arms around him in a hug, he is certain of that fact.

Victor is his best friend.

“You got taller!” Victor says excitedly.

“Only a litt—” Yuuri’s words cut off in a gasp, and his loose-armed hold turns into a cling as Victor picks him up and spins him around without warning. “Victor!” Yuuri yelps in a way he hopes conveys that he wants to be put down _immediately_.

It must work to some degree, because Victor complies,moving instead to grab Yuuri by the shoulders and holding him at arms length, like he’s due for inspection.

“Your voice!” He crows with delight, and Yuuri touches his throat self-consciously. At the very least, he can be thankful that Victor wasn’t around when it broke. “And your hair is longer. Wow! You look so different!” Victor’s palms are warm against the already hot skin of his face, and Yuuri hopes he can pass his blush off as sunburn (even though he hasn’t been burned in _years_ ). “These are the new glasses you told me about, too, right? They look so good on you!”

Letters, messages, texts, phone calls.

Yuuri is pretty certain that none of it fully prepared him for seeing Victor in person again.

Victor’s also taller, his shoulders broader, his fingers longer. His hair is swept up into a ponytail, making it hard to tell exactly how long it is, but Yuuri would bet it’s grown as well. His blue eyes catch the sunlight, his face alight with happiness, his smile so big that the edges of his eyes are crinkling.

Yuuri is certain he never forgot how devastatingly beautiful Victor was— _is_ —but he hadn’t realized how much he had adjusted to it last summer. If he could even call _that_ adjusting. It hadn’t been great, but it had been _bearable_ , and he hadn’t even entertained the thought that it could get _worse_.

His heart feels like a physical block in his throat.

It’s hard to look at the Victor in front of him and see the Victor from his letters. The Victor who loves his dog more than anything else on the planet, who always misspells _lose_ as _loose_. The quirky Victor who is funny, and quirky, and talks too much. Who dips his oreos in cream cheese and can recite the entire script of _Dirty Dancing_. Victor, his best friend, who he texted until he fell asleep at 3am, who helped him with his English homework, who filled the envelope his birthday card came in with glitter that’s still imbedded in his bedroom carpet.

The Victor in front of him looks like an elfin prince, haloed by the summer sun, and Yuuri doesn’t know how he’s supposed to rectify _this_ Victor with his best friend.

Victor tips his head to the side, the ends of his ponytail swaying with the movement. “Yuuri?”

Yuuri blinks. When was the last time he said something?

“I—” His lips feel chapped and he licks them. “You’re taller, too,” he says, not knowing what else to say, and Victor just keeps smiling.

“I missed you,” Victor says, voice dropped like a secret, and Yuuri has to glance away in his shyness.

Ten months, and his crush hasn’t abated. If anything, it’s worse now—he _knows_ Victor now, and Victor knows him, and Yuuri never knew that something so simple could be so utterly precious.

“You guys are adorable, but I have to go to my cabin now!” Phichit calls, and they both turn to look at him. He has the new digital camera his older sister got him for his birthday pressed to his eye, and Yuuri blanches. How long has he been taking pictures?

“Were you taking pictures?” Victor’s eyes light up again, and Yuuri stares at him. Can hardly help it. “Show me later, okay?” Phichit gives a thumbs up, gives Yuuri a look that is positively smug and borderline suggestive, and then waves goodbye before trudging to the sprout side of camp.

Next year, he’ll finally be a blossom, too. Yuuri hopes he’s in Orchid with him and Victor.

“Come on. I already picked out our bunk.” Victor takes Yuuri’s backpack from him despite loud squawks of protest, and then links their arms.

“Our bunk?” Yuuri asks in confusion.

“Well of course.” Victor gives him a puzzled look. “We’ll share.” Someone calls their names, and they both turn and see Chris with one of his cabinmates. Matt, if Yuuri remembers correctly. Victor waves back enthusiastically. “Did you want top or bottom, by the way? I don’t have a preference.”

“Ow-ow!” Chris calls to them, and Yuuri is quite certain he’ll die right there. “You guys don’t waste any time, do you? Be gentle, Victor! He’s innocent!”

“And I’m not?” Victor asks on a gasp, pressing the hand that’s not wrapped lightly around Yuuri’s wrist to his chest as if he’s offended. “Rude! And here I was, about to tell you how great your ass looks!” Victor crows, and Yuuri feels the embarrassment in his chest deepen, darken, and twist into something much more unpleasant. He focuses on the dirt walk and the tips of his chucks, and not on the conversation taking place.

That’s probably why it takes him longer than it should to realize Victor is speaking to him.

“Yuuri? Are you okay?” Victor dips into his eye line, a concerned pout plumping his lower lip. “You keep spacing out.”

“Ah.” He blinks rapidly. “Sorry. The bus ride always wears me out.” It’s not a complete lie. He _is_ tired, and the heat doesn’t help. It feels hotter this summer than it had last summer, but Yuuri’s not sure if that’s the weather or his propensity for blushing constantly in Victor’s presence.

Victor frowns.

“Let’s go get some popsicles and then we can go sit somewhere and talk,” he says decisively, and this, at least, makes Yuuri laugh.

“About _what?_ I got your last letter two days before I left,” Yuuri points out, feeling some of the heavy tension that’s been weighing on him since he got off the bus fall away.

“Exactly!” Victor clings to his arm and sighs dramatically. “I never got a response. That’s two days of your life I don’t know about, Yuuri. And we haven’t talked about your new dog nearly enough. In fact, we don’t talk about Makkachin enough, either.”

They talk about Makkachin every time they talk. In every letter Yuuri has received, there is at least one paragraph just about Makkachin. But Yuuri smiles and nods.

“You’ll be my partner for the courage test, right, Yuuri?” The question comes out of left field, making Yuuri stumble. Victor’s looking at him, eyes shining again, all hope and expectation. Yuuri’s stomach drops.

The courage test. He’d forgotten. Just like last year.

He never told Victor about what happened last year. About his fear. About his failure. He’d been too ashamed at first, and then he’d pushed it out of his mind, buried it, _forgotten_ it. Or, at least, forgotten it as much as he possibly could.

Victor doesn’t know how weak he was. Victor had finished, and Yuuri _knows_ he had, because it’s not even possible that he’d been too scared to get to the end. How could Yuuri say yes and be his partner and _hold him back_?

“I mean…” Victor’s expression falters. “Unless you’re doing it with Shiloh again? I’d understand.” The smile on his face is too bright, too wide, and it’s the first time Yuuri has looked at Victor’s smiling face and felt dread in his stomach.

“No, no, I—” Of course Yuuri wants to be Victor’s partner. In what universe would he not? “It’s not that, I want to be your partner, I just—”

“You do?!” If Yuuri hadn’t been looking at him, he wouldn’t have seen the false smile crack and get replaced with a real one. The image makes his heart hurt. He never wants to make Victor look like that _again_. “Good. Great. Me too.” He laughs. “Obviously. Okay, come on, let’s drop your things off.” His energy renewed, as if the question of Yuuri being his partner had been a shackle around his ankles, he pulls Yuuri towards Orchid cabin with a skip in his step. “We have to get to the commissary before all the good flavors are gone.”

Last year, Victor had gotten there when all the good flavors had been gone.

That had partly been Yuuri’s fault.

In his lingering guilt, Yuuri forgets that he didn’t say yes or no, that his non-response was taken as a yes, anyway. Victor is smiling, and Yuuri can hardly say no, now.

There are a few days before the courage test. Surely Yuuri will work up the courage to tell Victor about last year in time for him to find another partner.

It’ll be fine.

 

 

*

 

 

_August 2010_

 

_Dear Victor,_

_Summer always feels too short to me. It always has. Maybe because I’ve always spent my summers at Rosewood, and by the time I get back, there’s hardly any summer left. I start school in two days, and I keep thinking about how soon it is. You’re starting high school, aren’t you? That must be exciting for you._

_I love dogs, and Makkachin sounds like the best dog. Do you think she’d like me? I hope so. I’ve always wanted a dog, but I know it’s a lot of responsibility. Once I’m sure I’m ready, I’ll ask my parents, but I don’t want to bother them about a puppy when they’re already so busy. I_

_We’ll have summer weather in California for at least another two months, and business won’t slow down until the holidays. Even then, there are always people who want to take vacations to little inns on the ocean. Mari says that our Yelp reviews call us romantic and picturesque, and I guess that’s what people want when they go on vacation._

_I’ve spent my last days of summer break sleeping and playing video games. I like to sleep late. If I could change anything about camp, it would be the fact that they wake us up so early every day. And maybe it would last longer, too. And my parents could visit often. Then camp would be perfect, I think. I’ve been playing this new game that came out while we were at camp called Limbo. It’s a puzzle platformer and I really like it. The art is very different. Do you play video games at all? It was never something we talked about._

_Is Dancing With the Stars good? I’ve never really watched it. I’ve never really watched American Idol, either. Phichit says I’m hopeless. I really like The Amazing Race, though, and I’m excited for it to come back. That’s the best thing about the fall, at least in California. I don’t really get to see the leaves change, but I do get to watch all of my favorite TV programs. I am excited for the new season of Glee, though. I guess I don’t watch American Idol because I get all my singing from Glee._

_You waited so long to do your summer reading! If I’d known you had it, I would have bothered you about it at camp. Is that because you’re entering an honors English program in high school? You must be very smart. I’m not surprised. But three novels is a lot! I hope you’re a fast reader. I’ve never read any of those books, so I can’t help you._

_I don’t watch the sunset over the ocean every day. I think it’s something I got used to, like the sound of the train going by. I guess it stopped seeming like something special. But maybe I should go out to see it more. You reminded me that it’s not a sight a lot of people get to see or appreciate it, and maybe I’ve been taking it for granted. If Mari lets me borrow her camera, I’ll take a picture for you._

_Good luck with your reading!_

_Yuuri_

 

 

*

 

 

The time to talk to Victor about the courage test never comes.

At least, the absolute perfect opportunity doesn’t present itself. Every time Yuuri opens his mouth to back out, to insist that Victor pair up with someone else, Victor will look at him curiously and Yuuri will say something else completely.

He doesn’t want to let Victor down, but there doesn’t seem to be a way out of this for him that doesn’t lead to Victor’s disappointment. It’s a lose-lose situation.

If Victor is the one he ends up navigating the courage test with, at least he doesn’t have to make himself anxious over who else it might be. And if Victor gets mad at him an decides to never speak to him again, well… Yuuri brought that on himself.

This year, the courage test starts on the blossom-side dock on Lake Rosewood. Yuuri makes sure that Victor is the one holding their single flashlight, and focuses on setting one foot in front of the other as they make their way into the woods. Everything is dark and bleached of light, a monotonous greyscale forestscape wherever Victor isn’t pointing the flashlight.

Yuuri thinks of all the hours he put into Limbo, how many times he played it, how many times he failed a jump or was impaled on the leg of a giant spider. He feels the protagonist now, rushing headlong into the darkness, unaware of any dangers that are lying between him and his destination.

He hopes there aren’t any bear traps.

A hand closes over his shoulder and Yuuri has to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from outright screaming.

“Sorry, sorry!” Victor rushes to say, waving his hands around. The flashlight dances around the woods, highlighting random trunks of trees and branches overhead. Everything looks dangerous and menacing and Yuuri feels like he might start crying. “I didn’t mean to scare you, you just—are you okay?”

Yuuri can hardly see Victor’s face in the darkness, but he can hear the worry in his voice. He rubs his hands over his face, pushing at his eyes, and hates how terrified he feels.

“I never told you this,” he admits in the quiet of the woods, eyes covered by his fingers. “But I—I never _finished_ the courage test last year.” Yuuri’s hushed voice still sounds loud in the near silence of the woods. The song of crickets and the wind through the trees is an eerie ambiance, occasionally punctuated by the call of an owl or the scurrying of some woodland creature. “I dropped our flashlight and got too scared and I just—I never finished. I never finished. I’m sorry.”

The guilt of his admission feels like maple syrup, thick and heavy, on his tongue.

The silence presses in from all around, and it feels harder to breathe, to think—and then Victor hums, thoughtful and contemplative.

“Why are you sorry?” He asks, voice gentle. “They call it a courage test for a reason. It’s supposed to be scary,” he states, matter-of-fact. “So it’s normal that you would be scared.”

“ _You_ don’t get scared,” Yuuri counters, although he doesn’t feel quite as miserable as he had moments before. At least Victor hadn’t gotten mad at him and left him alone here to be eaten by giant spiders.

The sound of Victor’s laugh has him straightening up and opening his eyes, drawing his attention like a moth to a flame.

“Harrison would tell you differently,” Victor explains. Harrison is one of their cabinmates—he’d been Victor’s partner for the courage test last year. “I get scared all the time.”

“You do?” Yuuri’s not sure if he believes that.

“Yep,” Victor insists, completely unashamed. “I hate Friday night campfires.” On Fridays, all the blossom campers get to stay late and the counselors take turns telling ghost stories. It’s never been Yuuri’s favorite campfire, either, but—

“But you always seem to have such a good time. You’re always laughing,” he points out, frowning thoughtfully. Victor even makes fun of the ghost stories after they’re over. Yuuri’s never been under the impression that he was actually scared that entire time.

“I have to. If I don’t laugh about it, I don’t know what else to do,” he explains. “Let me guess, you probably thought I was so brave and carefree, right?” Victor’s smiling, but it reminds Yuuri of the one before, the one that sets him on edge. “I’m sure everybody else thinks that, too.” He looks away, and now that Yuuri’s eyes are adjusting to the dark, he can see Victor a little better. Can see the outline of his profile as he looks off into the woods, and Yuuri can’t help but wonder if he sees anything.

“You don’t want people to know that you’re scared,” Yuuri deduces quietly, and Victor turns to look at him. His smile is weaker, but real.

“And neither do you.” Victor holds out his hand. “We have more in common than we thought.”

Yuuri stares at his hand for a second, rolling his lip in his mouth, and then takes it. Victor squeezes and starts their walk again.

“Remember, Yuuri: _courage_.” Victor winks at him salaciously, and Yuuri groans. At least it makes him feel _slightly_ better, even if it is cheesy. “No? Doesn’t help? Let’s see… You like video games.” It’s not a question, but Yuuri nods, anyway. “So let’s pretend this is a video game.”

Yuuri swallows.

“I—That wasn’t really working for me,” he admits, and Victor laughs again.

“You play such scary things.” Victor looks at Yuuri like he’s the most amusing puzzle he’s ever tried to solve. “Okay, then. Let’s tell a story.”

“Like… Together?”

Victor hums.

“I’ll start, and then you add on, and—oh look, Yuuri! The first marker!” Victor points at one of the trees, where a wooden arrow is illuminated by a hanging lantern and is directing them to go left. Just beneath it, two dozen colored rubber bands are being offered on a hook. When they get closer, Yuuri can see that they’re light pink. “At least we know we’re going the right way.”

Considering Yuuri had never even seen a marker last year, his confidence feels newly bolstered.

Victor lets him secure the rubber band around their flashlight, and then they’re on their way again. Victor doesn’t let go of his hand, and Yuuri doesn’t try to pull away.

“Once upon a time,” Victor begins once they can no longer see the marker’s glow, “there were two boys walking through the woods.”

Yuuri can’t help but smile.

“How appropriate.”

“Very,” Victor agrees. “But they weren’t regular boys, Yuuri. They were born in those woods, and they knew all of their secrets, and so they had nothing to be afraid of. Every tree was a familiar landmark, and every sound was like a childhood lullaby.”

Yuuri’s foot snaps a stick and they both jump a little bit, look at each other, and laugh.

“That must be nice,” he sighs, wistfully.

“Ah.” Victor shines the flashlight on his own face, his expression solemn. “But sometimes, a little fear is necessary. That day, the boys were walking to their favorite meadow, but when they got there, something wasn’t right.”He points the light at Yuuri’s face, and he winces at the sudden brightness. Victor doesn’t speak again, and they come to a standstill between the trees. Well, Yuuri supposes this is where he picks up the story.

“Um.” He swallows. “In the meadow, there was a—a beautiful crystal pond, surrounded by flowers. Yeah. And normally it shone with all the colors of the rainbow, because it was magic, but today the surface was clouded. All murky. And, um, normally, the two boys would bathe in the water and benefit from its magic, and because they had no fear, they didn’t worry about the water looking weird. They were still going to take their bath. But then one of the boys—”

“Let’s call him Vitya,” Victor chimes in, and Yuuri smiles, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, okay. Then _Vitya_ put his barefoot into the water and…” Yuuri looks at Victor, and he smiles gleefully.

“And it swallowed him right up!”

“Oh no!”

When they reach the end of the courage test, Yuuri is brandishing their flashlight like a sword. It’s decorated in six rubber bands, each one a different color.

“And then Yuu slays the evil sorcerer with Vitya’s magical sword, freeing him from the mind control and—oh.” Yuuri looks around, blinking. “We finished.”

Victor smiles at him and bumps their shoulders.

“We finished.”

 

 

*

 

 

_November 2010_

 

_YOU GOT A DOG?!_

_Wait, let me start over._

_Dear Yuuri,_

_YOU GOT A DOG?! That is the most exciting thing you’ve ever told me! You haven’t even posted about it on Facebook yet! I don’t know how you have the self restraint, but I’m glad I found out from your letter first. It feels more special that way. But you better take some pictures! And soon! In fact as soon as I finished writing this, I’m going to message you and demand pictures. You said you got a new phone, too, right? I will also accept texted pictures. In fact, you should text me pictures of your puppy daily, and I’ll send you pictures of Makka, too. I’m adding this as a clause in our friendship contract._

_(It’s weird to think that when you get this letter, everything above will have already come true! Sometimes I wonder if we should stop writing letters, but I look forward to getting mine every week. Facebook messaging is nice and we’ll be able to text now that you have a phone! But I like our letters. It’s like our very special thing.)_

_I will resist asking you for details, because I’m sure I’ll know by the time you get this, but I’m so happy for you! That’s so exciting! I don’t remember you even telling me you asked for a dog, so how did they know, I wonder? It sounds like there is someone in your life who cares about you a WHOLE LOT and maybe hinted to your parents that they should get you a poodle because poodles are the best dogs. I wonder who it could have been!_

_Speaking of dogs, Makka says hello. I talk about you enough that when I mention your name, she recognizes it. By the time she finally does meet you, she’ll already love you thanks to my careful planning. But Makka loves everyone I love, and if she doesn’t like someone, it’s a pretty good sign that I shouldn’t, either. She keeps me out of trouble that way. It reminds me of a particular story, but I don’t know if this letter is the best place to tell it. Remind me the next time we get to talk over the phone? It feels like something I should tell you in person._

_Or well, as in person as I can, unless you’re making a trip out to Maryland any time soon? It’s very lovely in the winter. You know you want to._

_But I’ve wanted to tell you for awhile. I think we’re close enough friends now, and I trust you. You’ll be my friend no matter what, right, Yuuri?_

_I can’t wait any longer to ask about your dog, so I’m going to end this letter here and hop on Facebook._

_Talk to you soon!_

_Victor_

 

 

*

 

 

With a sigh, Yuuri opens his eyes, staring up at the wooden slats above him. He can’t sleep—hasn’t been able to for what feels like hours, even if he’s not sure what time it is exactly. He strains to see Justin’s bunk across the cabin, but can’t tell if their counselor is back yet, and slumps back into his pillow.

He turns on his side, flips his pillow over, tries laying on his stomach—but none of it helps. Every time he closes his eyes, he’s hyper aware of every sound around him, his heart beating far too fast. He imagines a white, eyeless face with a mouth too full of teeth and jerks back to complete alertness.

There’s no way he’s getting any sleep tonight.

“Yuuri?” Comes a quiet whisper from above him, and if Yuuri wasn’t so attuned to the sound and canter of Victor’s voice he might have shrieked. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri breathes out, just as quietly, eyes shooting around nervously. On the bunk next to theirs, Shiloh shifts in his sleep, but otherwise no one else reacts to their quiet conversation. “I can’t sleep,” he admits.

“Me neither.”

Yuuri wonders how long they’ve both been silently suffering. It doesn’t make that much of a difference, knowing that Victor’s also awake, but at least if The Smiling Man breaks into their cabin and plucks out their eyeballs, they’ll die together.

And Victor’s smart. Maybe Victor will devise a plan to escape.

“I’m scared,” Victor admits a moment later, voice a little softer, and Yuuri wishes he could see his best friend. “And I have to pee.”

Yuuri smashes his face into his pillow to keep from laughing.

“Will you walk with me to the bathroom?”

It’s not against the rules to go to the bathrooms after lights out, and the buddy system is encouraged. But Yuuri looks at the door and feels a sense of dread. What if they run into The Smiling Man on the way?

 _We could lead him away from everyone else_ , he thinks, and then fumbles for his glasses. His heart is still hammering too hard, but there’s something about being with Victor that makes him feel a little braver.

Maybe because, with Victor, they take on everything together.

“Yeah, okay.”

The camp is silent as they walk, the counselors all tucked away wherever it is they go after lights out. Yuuri wonders how late they all stay up, and what they do, and why Justin can’t be there to protect them. He’s not sure what Justin would do, but—well, he’s their _counselor_. Surely he could do _something_.

“Do you think it’s true?” Victor asks. He’s walking close enough that their arms brush every time they take a step. The braid Yuuri had twisted his hair into after dinner is loosened and messy from where he’d tossed and turned against his pillow, and his eyes are sleep heavy. Seeing him like this feels horrendously intimate.

“What?” Yuuri asks, looking down at his shoes.

“Hank’s story. The Smiling Man.”

Even thinking about it makes Yuuri shudder.

“God, I hope not.” His eyes flit around nervously.

“Well, I mean, has anyone ever died? You’re the one whose been coming here for a hundred years.”

“Shut up.” Yuuri laughs as quietly as he can, shoving Victor with his shoulder. “Only, like, six. But no?” If someone had _died_ here, Yuuri’s parents never would have let him come back—not that he would have wanted to.

“No one had their eyeballs plucked out?” Victor asks in a spooky voice, making claws with his hands, and Yuuri smiles. “Had all their teeth fall out?”

“ _No_ ,” Yuuri relents.

“So he _can’t_ be real, right? Or if he was, he was defeated,” Victor states confidently, and it’s not until Yuuri looks up that he notices they aren’t at the bathrooms. In fact, they’re not even _near_ the bathrooms. He hadn’t been paying attention to where they were going, sure that Victor could navigate them the short walk to the restrooms. But they’re at the edge of the woods, and Yuuri can faintly make out the sounds of the lake. The light is dimmer here, and despite Victor’s convincing argument that The Smiling Man isn’t real, Yuuri immediately feels nervous. Did Victor get lost?

“I thought you had to go to the bathroom,” he says, shifting his weight and wanting more than nothing to be back in his bed. His bed is safe. Well, safer than being out here in the open. There are plenty of cabins The Smiling Man could attack, what’s to say he’d even go to Orchid first?

Oh god, he’s a horrible person.

“I do.” Victor frowns at him. “I just… Thought we’d take a detour first.” He grabs Yuuri by the hand and pulls him into the tree line.

“We’re going to get in trouble,” Yuuri insists, eyes rolling around wildly like maybe he can see in every direction at once.

“No we’re not, we’re going to the bathroom.”

“It’s in the other direction!” Yuuri tries to scramble backwards, but Victor’s grip is firm.

“I got lost.” He says it with such easy confidence that Yuuri is sure any counselor or staff member would believe him. If any of them thought to look for two truant campers _in the woods_ on ghost story night.

“The Smiling Man—” Yuuri’s voice is shrill with panic.

“—doesn’t exist, remember? Just…” Victor gives him a pleading look, and Yuuri stumbles forward a few steps at a significantly hard tug.

Victor doesn’t pull him any further, and when Yuuri glances past him, he sees why. They’re nearly at the shore of the lake, the water a near perfect mirror of the night sky, and in the brush all around them are fireflies.

“Oh,” Yuuri says, taking an unconscious step forward—a few fireflies dart away from the movement.

“Yeah,” Victor says. He’s still holding Yuuri’s hand. “Fireflies weren’t something I ever really saw growing up. But I saw them last year for the first time, and…” Victor just smiles, shaking his head. “They’re like little stars, aren’t they?” He reaches out with his free hand, drawing it through the air as the fireflies dance away from his open palm.

Yuuri watches him, and the way the glow softly illuminates his face. It’s a gentle, sleepy kind of beauty—out of a fairy tale as much as Victor himself sometimes is.

“We don’t have fireflies back home, either,” Yuuri says, watching the little lights as they flit lazily around the tall grass. He remembers how excited was, the first time he saw them, but now fireflies are just a part of Rosewood. Yuuri wonders when they became like ocean sunsets—something that became so routine and familiar in his life that he forgot their true majesty.

“Mama says you can find them in Maryland,” Victor continues. His eyes look soft, relaxed, like he’s seeing an old friend after a long time apart. “If you know when and where to look.” Victor looks at Yuuri then, his smile small and sleepy, and for a moment Yuuri wishes they could stay here in the clearing with the fireflies forever. “She calls them lightning bugs.”

Yuuri smiles, too.

“Lightning bugs?” He looks back at the fireflies and their quiet, summertime magic.

“Little lightning bugs,” Victor says in a hush. “They remind me of our story, about Vitya and Yuu and their battle against the evil in the center of the forest.”

“The fireflies were the guardians of the forest,” Yuuri recalls, and suddenly he knows why Victor made it that way.

“Mmm.” Victor holds his hand out again, like he might try and catch one, and then lets it drop. “I bet the little lightning bugs gave them a lot of courage.”

“Are you going to make another cheesy Glee joke?”

Victor grins at him, like maybe he thought about it, and then the look softens.

“No. No I’m not.” The light of the fireflies reflects in his eyes. “I truly believe that.”

Is that why Victor brought them here, then? To give them courage? After all, Vitya and Yuu are just fictional versions of themselves.

Yuuri thinks about the first time he saw a firefly, how excited and enthralled he’d been. He thought they were magic. That if he were to catch one in a bottle, he could save its magic for a day when he really needed it.

Like now.

For a second, he closes his eyes and imagines that if there is any magic here, it’s wrapping warm and comforting around both him and Victor. Keeping them safe. Protecting them.

When he opens his eyes again, Victor is looking at him, bathed in the fireflies’ soft glow. He’s giving Yuuri a curious look, but he just shakes his head and looks away.

“They really do look like little stars,” he says instead. Stars that are close enough to reach out and touch. “Do you think they grant wishes, like stars do?”

“Let’s find out.”

They make their way back to camp in silence, hands still clasped together. With the memory of the fireflies’ soothing glow still warm in his mind, it’s hard for Yuuri to think about ghost stories.

“Yuuri,” Victor says as they cross the tree line. “I still have to pee.”

Yuuri has to muffle his laugh in Victor’s shoulder.

 

 

*

 

 

_January 2011_

 

_Dear Victor,_

_I can’t decide if going back to school after winter break is easier or harder than starting school after summer. On the one hand, winter break is a lot shorter than summer, and I’m even less ready to go back once its over than I am when summer ends. But winter doesn’t have camp, and I’m pretty sure camp is 95% of the reason going back to school sucks so much at the end of the summer._

_Maybe if we went to school together, it wouldn’t be so bad. Do you think that’ll ever happen? Maybe I can go to college in Maryland._

_Did you finish your winter break reading? I know I texted you about it daily, and you haven’t complained to me yet about needing to read two books in 24 hours, so I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt here._

_I finished Epic Mickey last night! You already know because I was texting you as I was playing it and you told me to go to bed about a hundred times, but I finished it! It’s so exciting! Is there anything like the rush of beating a game? Now I can play through the new Assassin’s Creed again. There’s still so many achievements I don’t have._

_And you don’t care, but you’re a good friend and you pretend to care anyways, just like I pretend to care when you talk about Skating with the Stars. It just doesn’t make sense to me. There’s no way celebrities learned to figure skate that fast! Have you ever gone ice skating? It’s hard!_

_I’m jealous of your snow. Although not really, because I don’t like it when it’s too cold. California cold is enough for me, and it’s always cooler here by the ocean. It’ll be warm again soon, and I won’t be able to wear cardigans and sweaters anymore. It’s all very sad._

_Maybe if we both live in Maryland one day, I can wear cardigans like eight months of the year or however long it’s cold there. Or maybe you’ll live in California, and we’ll watch sunsets on the ocean instead._

_As long as we’re together, right?_

_Yuuri_

 

 

*

 

 

Justin still isn’t back when they both climb into their bunks. While Yuuri hardly feels scared anymore, he feels much more awake after their adventure. He’s going to be exhausted in the morning, but he can’t find it in himself to mind.

He hasn’t even closed his eyes when Victor’s head appears over the side of his mattress, braid dangling over his shoulder.

“I still can’t sleep,” he admits in a whisper, and really, it’s amazing they haven’t woken anyone up with all their escapades. Before Yuuri can respond, Victor derails every thought in his head by asking, “Will you sleep in my bunk with me?”

Yuuri stares at where he can make out the shine of Victor’s eyes and doesn’t respond.

“Just for tonight,” Victor insists, his voice getting slightly too loud. He slams his mouth shut quickly, glancing around—Connor lets out a particularly loud snore from across the cabin, but otherwise, nobody moves. The tension leaves Victor’s body. “Please? I don’t—” Victor’s eyebrows pinch, like whatever he’s trying to say is extremely difficult for me. “I’m afraid I’m going to have nightmares. I don’t want to be alone.”

Yuuri thinks of all the ghost story campfires last night, of Victor’s smiling face. Of the way he must have stayed up all night, staring at the cabin ceiling, fighting sleep or waking fitfully from nightmares.

It’s not a good idea. It’s probably super inappropriate and it might even be against the rules and there’s no way Justin won’t notice that Yuuri isn’t in his bunk when he gets back and, and, and—

—and Yuuri is kind of a little in love with Victor if he’s being honest with himself, and he doubts spending the night next to him is going to help at all. He certainly wouldn’t be able to sleep.

There’s no way he could do this.

“Yuuri?”

He closes his eyes, counts to three, and then gets up.

It’s not like he’s going to sleep _anyway_.

Victor watches him with wide eyes as he climbs up to the top bunk, scooting back until his back is pressed to the railing and Yuuri scrambles onto the mattress beside him. It’s a tight fit—the mattresses in the bunks are pretty small, and not meant for two teenage boys to share.

“You… You actually did it.” Victor sounds like he doesn’t quite believe it as he watches Yuuri lay down. Victor’s pillow is soft and cool and smells like his shampoo, and Yuuri fights the urge to press his nose into it.

“You asked me to,” Yuuri reminds him, removing his glasses. He tucks them carefully into a space between the mattress and the frame and hopes he remembers where he put them in the morning.

“Yeah, but…” Victor just shakes his head, and then plops happily down on the mattress beside him. With both of their heads on the pillow, their noses are nearly touching, and Yuuri finds his heart is pounding for completely different reasons than it had been an hour ago. “Thank you, Yuuri,” Victor sighs out softly, leaning forward just enough to bump the tips of their noses, and Yuuri closes his eyes.

They’re so close that their knees are bumping and he can feel Victor’s cold fingers against his forearms. He shivers at the closeness—can’t help it.

“Oh, right, sorry.” Victor shuffles around in the darkness, and then pulls his thick quilt up and over both of them. It amplifies the Victor smell problem by about a million percent.

He’s never sleeping. Ever. Yuuri is suddenly hyper aware of every muscle in his body.

“Are you asleep?” Victor’s voice is practically in his ear.

“No.”

“Oh.” Victor shuffles a little closer, and Yuuri can feel Victor’s hair tickle his jaw. He doesn’t dare open his eyes.

Maybe tonight was all a dream. Their late night walk, the fireflies, Victor being this close. Yuuri will wake up and none of it will have been real.

That’s much more believable than all of it actually happening.

“Back home, when I can’t sleep, I have Makka with me,” Victor tells him, keeping his voice low. They’re close enough that Victor hardly has to make any noise at all, and Yuuri could hear him.

“Does that happen a lot?” Yuuri asks.

“I guess. More than it probably should,” Victor admits. “I’m fifteen, after all.”

“What did Vitya and Yuu teach us? That fear can be a good thing?”

Victor chuckles quietly.

“I guess that’s true.” He pauses. “Should we tell another story about them?”

Yuuri relents his inner battle, opening his eyes and meeting Victor’s.

“You start.” Even though he’d started last time. Victor is a much better storyteller than he is.

 

 

*

 

 

_March 2011_

 

_Dear Yuuri,_

_I’ve rewritten this letter three times, and it just keeps coming out wrong. I guess I can’t help it. I’m still really upset about the whole spring break thing, and every time I try to write to you, I just get angry all over again. Not at you, of course. You know it’s all at my dad. Isn’t it always?_

_You know one day, all of this won’t matter. I won’t get handed around between my parents like a sack of potatoes, and the number of miles between us won’t matter. It could be a million, but we’ll be adults and in charge of our own lives so it won’t matter! Isn’t that crazy? I can’t wait until I’m 18. I’ll come to college in California and we’ll see each other all the time and I won’t have to see my dad anymore. We’ll only go to New York City together, so I can show you all of my favorite places. It’s not like my dad will care, anyway._

_I haven’t left my room all weekend, except to take Makka on walks. Mama has been bringing me food, but has more or less left me alone. As mad as I am, I know it’s not her fault. She did what she could. It means a lot to me that she’s giving me space, though._

_We’ll try again next year, right? And the year after that? I don’t think I’ll be happy until I get to spend a spring break with you and your parents on the coast. It’ll be like living in a Nicholas Sparks book. Maybe we’ll both have dreadfully tragic romances._

_Camp is only three months away, and I’ve started counting down on my calendar. Is it June yet?_

_Miss you like crazy,_

_Victor_

 

 

*

 

 

Contrary to his belief, Yuuri must fall asleep, because the next thing he knows he’s opening his eyes and it’s light out.

It takes him a moment to orient where he is, considering his bunk doesn’t get any direct sunlight, before he starts to remember last night. Walking hand-in-hand with Victor through a grove of fireflies. Agreeing to sleep in his bunk. The rise and fall of Victor’s voice as he told another story about Vitya and Yuu.

He can feel the rise and fall of Victor’s chest and realizes that his forehead is pressed to the back of his shoulder. His arm is draped lazily around Victor’s waist and _oh god_. They’re _spooning_.

Yuuri simultaneously wants to dig his own grave and squeal into Victor’s pillow.

No, no, he needs to—he needs to get up. The morning salute hasn’t gone off yet, and if gets back into his own bunk now, no one will know what happened.

Maybe even Victor will forget.

It’s a good plan. A great plan. That Yuuri needs to put into action immediately. The longer he waits, the less time he has.

He just needs to move.

Any second now.

Why is moving suddenly the last thing his body wants to do?

Victor twists beside him, bringing them face to face again, and Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat as Victor’s hands curl against his chest.

Or—or he could just stay here. Just for a little while longer.

Just a little while.

Then he’ll stop being the worst friend _ever_ and go back to his own bunk.

Yuuri closes his eyes.

 

 

*

 

 

_May 2011_

 

_30 days!_

_Dear Victor, who I will be seeing in 30 days,_

_I’ll be seeing you in 30 days! I can hardly believe it. I mean, I can, because it’s been a very long nine months, but at the same time I feel like we just started writing letters to each other yesterday. Do you think it’ll be weird to see each other again? I hope not. I mean, we almost spent spring break together, after all, and we talk all the time. How could it be weird?_

_My mom wants to know if there’s anything she should send with me that you might want. I told her you don’t want anything, but she was insistent, so I thought I would ask. I doubt there’s much she could give me that you can’t get at home, anyway. I think she might start sending you postcards at camp, though. I may have mentioned that you didn’t really get mail last summer, and while I’m not a hundred percent positive, I know my mom. She likes to do embarrassing things like that._

_I now understand why going to camp is so hard for you, because I’m very sad to leave Vicchan behind. Do you think I could smuggle him in my suitcase? He’s small enough. And that way I can have my dog and you can also have my dog for whenever you miss Makka. But please let Makka know that I would never let Vicchan replace her in your heart, if that’s even possible._

_I’m also going to try and smuggle my new 3DS with me, as well as my old one. There are too many video games you haven’t played, and while I can’t force you to buy any sort of gaming consoles, I can at least give you my old one. Consider it a late birthday gift. Early birthday gift? Reunion gift? I think we should be able to play Mario Kart together at the very least. If we have the time. There never seems to be enough time to do things like that at camp._

_Don’t forget to mail me your summer reading list so I can hold you accountable._

_30 days! I still can’t believe it. I don’t think I’ll believe it until we’re both actually there._

_So close and still so far!_

_Yuuri_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [like this chapter? you can reblog it on tumblr, too!](http://missmichellebelle.tumblr.com/post/162480677135/three-little-lightning-bug-once-upon-a-time)
> 
> consistent chapter lengths? updating on the same day every week? what is that lol.
> 
> no but seriously like I forgot how much _stuff_ I have planned for the summer, so hopefully I can get a bit ahead on the chapters so I can update consistently. but yeah, the chapter lengths are just... all over the place. did you guys know this chapter DOUBLES the length of the fic so far? like wow. amazing.
> 
> I spent three years in the Glee fandom, so there's going to be Glee jokes, _I'm sorry_. #courage
> 
> so begins the very steady foundation of Victor and Yuuri's friendship~ they've been through birthdays, so for this chapter and the next, Yuuri is 13 and Victor is 15. lol how do you write about puberty though honestly.


End file.
